Grigori Y. Rasputin lived during volatile times. His real life was as exciting as the legends and comic books tell, famous for his triumph over death. Even if it was only for a few hours, which is technically only abit longer than most Russians.
Charismatic from a young age, Rasputin had an increasing interest in religion, although he was never ordained. After bearing a few kids , like any great man, he took off and travelled on a pilgramage of sex and drunkeness and all around monk-like stuff. No matter how much he smelled like a dead goat whose beard had last weeks soup still lingering..he never had a problem getting orgies goin on. He knew after years of getting people to do what he wanted by saying he was prophet, a seer, and a healer he decided to take his show to the masses through the aristocrity. He took himself to St. Peterburg, and won the Tzarinas trust and love. Not unlike our Pope of today, Rasputin had one of the eeriest set of eyeballs for a holy man.
As a peasant walking through the golden walls of the winter palace, must have felt quite amazing after coming from from a harsh wastelands of Siberia. So, like any normal Russian, he began drinking more, having crazed rants in public and all around embarassig the Tzar and his family. With a revolution right around the corner, it wasn't long before the aristocrats decided to kill Rasputin, and his influence over the Tzar and his wife.
Prince Felix Yusupov and Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovitch Romanov took charge to end Rasputins' life on the night of December 29, 1916, at the princes' home. Begging Rasputin to come and "heal" his wife , they had set up poisoned cakes and wine which seemed to have no effect on the Mad Monk. Nervous that Rasputin was holy or the Devil, he shot him in the side. Thinking him dead, he was relieved for only a moment, when he got off the floor and began too strangle the prince. He was then shot again and beaten bloody. It was done, but as they went for a carpet to wrap Rasputin in, he got up and ran out , only to be shot again . This time in the head. It had to be over. They drove to the Neva River and tossed Rasputin over a bridge. Three days later his frozen body was recovered with his arms outstretched to claw out from the ice.
The autopsy found he had died with water in his lungs - he had drowned. Leaving the Tzarina with a forboding letter before his death...
"I write and leave behind me this letter at St. Petersburg. I feel that I shall leave life before January 1...If I am killed by common assassins, and especially by my brothers the Russian peasants, you Tsar of Russia, have nothing to fear, remain on your throne and govern, and you, Russian Tsar, will have nothing to fear for your children, they will reign for hundreds of years in Russia...if it was your relations who have wrought my death, then no one in the family, that is to say, none of your children or relations, will remain alive for more than two years. They will be killed by the Russian people...You must reflect and act prudently. Think of your safety and tell your relations that I have paid for them with my blood. I shall be killed. I am no longer among the living."
Pray, pray, be strong,
think of your blessed family.
The Romanov dynasty was over in a matter of months, leading the way for the Bolshevic Revolution.
The story of his death has been retold with such ferver and interest, with Russian parents telling their children to be good or Rasputin will get them and hypnotize them to do his bidding. He has been blamed for the Romanov downfall and had his story made into countless movies, video games and comic books (comics.ign.com/top-100-villains/83.html) .
He lived the life of a rock star, without the music. Which brings us to the most talked about piece of Rasputin lore...his piece. It was said to be about 12 inches long with a huge wart, located in just the right spot to give women orgasms to faint about. It is not known for sure if Rasputins member was lobbed off during his murder or his autopsy, but it has apparently made its way to the museum of erotica in St. Petersburg, Russia.
Whether its really Rasputins or not, Im sure they'll get some ticket buyers for this one.
And no telling of Rasputins tale could end without a little Bony M. Nothing says Russian strength and mystery like a funky disco beat sung by Atlantic Islanders brought together by a german guy..enjoy...